


The Solitude Chronicle

by TheWalkingSwen



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Elder Scroll V, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Skyrim AU, Swan Queen - Freeform, Swan Queen AU, Swen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingSwen/pseuds/TheWalkingSwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swan Queen AU/Skyrim crossover. Aspiring fire mage Regina of Cyrodiil is set to marry. Unable to acquiesce to her mother's wishes however, she flees to the neighboring province of Skyrim. Seeking out refuge in the vast halls of Solitude, she unintentionally finds herself as the right hand of Jarl Ema Nigellus in the midst of a civil war. Eventual Swan Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scroll I: Escape From Cyrodiil

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to (not limited to) the characters, concepts, places, names or origin stories of Once Upon a Time, or Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The names of various characters have been altered to fit the Tamriel/Skyrim naming convention however - if you have a hard time figuring out who's who, let me know. 
> 
> First of all, let me say a huge thank-you to those of you who will read this. I've never written an AU like this before, and while I may play TONS of Skyrim, I'm still not sure how accurately I can depict these characters in this situation. If anyone would be interested in beta-in future chapters, please let me know. It's worth mentioning that while magic plays a huge part in this story, it is not the same kind of magic possessed by those in FTL or in Storybrook. Regina was also raised in a very different situation, and will reflect a lot of Pre-Evil Queen personality as well. 
> 
> Secondly, in a way this story is for magicsophicorn - because she was the first person to tell me to fic my adventure of Regina the Arch Mage (who happens to be my actual PC in Elder Scrolls V). Also, if you haven't played before, and you're the gaming type, I HIGHLY recommend it. It's very Enchanted-Forest (complete with dragon-slaying). 
> 
> Without further ado - I hope y'all enjoy.

* * *

 

 

  An agonizing wail erupted from the mouth of the Skingrad Housecarl as the hand inside his chest clenched around his heart. Vision closing, the last thing he saw was the angry flash in his senior mistress’ eyes as her nails punctured the soft flesh, drowning the man in his own blood.

 

    A few metres back, the rest of the gathered Imperial soldiers cowered at the display of magic. One of the men turned away in horror, while others stiffened their jaws and looked anywhere but Cora’s face. Withdrawing her hand from Sidon’s torso she shifted her gaze to the onlookers, a smirk forming on painted lips.

 

“Would anybody else care to attempt an explanation as to how my daughter has gone missing?” She said sharply, challenging the men in her courtyard.

 

Silence hung stagnant in the air, absent of every sound but for the clicking of the Countess’ heels on the marbled floors.

 

Sidon’s words practically echoed in the space, hovering over his lifeless, crumpled body.

 

“Countess Cora, your daughter… Mistress Regina has fled.”

 

    The parchment balled into her other, white-knuckled fist trained the eyes of her subjects, taking a turn about the space. “Nobody?” She continued, eyeing down the men in uniform. “Well, if you won’t tell me how she managed to escape your undoubtedly watchful guard, perhaps you could all start by getting the Hell out of here and bringing her back.” Each of her last words was punctuated, accented clearly, venom dripping from her tongue as she scrunched her daughter’s letter even tighter in her hand.

 

    The Cordis countess turned on her heel and stormed out of the courtyard with impeccable, terrifying elegance. A collective sigh of relief erupted from the Imperials, shoulders relaxing a visible inch after the great doors had slammed shut behind their mistress.

 

    Looking back and forth between themselves, no one wanted to be the first to say it, but they all knew - this was a pass/fail mission. The only way to pass was to retrieve the escaped daughter - and to fail almost certainly meant a fate not unlike that of Sidon - Regina’s most loyal Housecarl.

 

...

 

   

Sneaking past that border patrol had been simple; she knew it would be. The mountain range between her and Helgen however, was a different story. Her journey, despite being well-planned was proving to be more arduous than she thought.

 

    Looking over her shoulder, she saw the wall separating her homeland from the province of Skyrim shrinking away, along with the patrols who had undoubtedly been made aware of her grand escape. The bag of supplies at her side weighed heavy with ingredients both edible and for the creation of potions; some spell tomes lay in the bottom - unnecessary weight by anyone’s standards, except by her own.

 

A long stretch of mountain road separated her from the small town, and while the pass was low, Regina could already feel the biting chill of night creeping in around her.

 

    Pulling her hood and cowl closer around her face, she flexed her gloved hands and cast a simple alteration spell to muffle her footsteps on the dry ground. Rocks and twigs crunched under her feet, yet the sound was contained within a thin, invisible barrier that surrounded her as she walked. A smile pulled at her lips, a chord of pride struck in her heart for her own magical prowess.

 

    She would travel parallel to the border to Southfringe Sanctum, where she had sent word of her coming, granted access for one night only. The Orsimer mage controlling the territory had once mistakenly put out a hit on a native of Cyrodiil, who had coincidentally taken refuge at Cordis manor. Regina remembered the encounter well - it was the first time she had used destruction magic on another human, and the last time she had insulted a battlemage. The scar on her upper lip puckered as they pursed, banishing the unpleasantness of the situation and focusing on getting there in once piece.

 

    The road itself was strangely quiet, mountain sounds and whispering winds blowing the only audible noise for what seemed like miles. Her spell had to be recast frequently, but the mage was positive that not only was she not followed - she would be impossible to track. Sidon had sent several letters on her behalf to various border crossings in Skyrim, each with a different contact. It would take them at least three days to find the right passage. Her Housecarl would pay a steep price, she knew.

 

    His feelings for me were always going to be his downfall… Regina thought bitterly, but only for a moment as her eyes made out the form of Southfringe further up the path. Exhaustion struck her, and she hurried on as best she could.

 

Before long, a young man rushed out to meet her, left hand sparking with the promise of strong magic.

 

“Who goes there!?” He called out, catching her in his sights.

 

“I am here to meet with your leader.” Regina replied flatly, her years of vocal training finally being put to good use. “Bashnag is aware of my arrival.”

 

    The man eyed her suspiciously, coming close enough for the Imperial woman to hear the lightning in his hand crackle. His eyes reminded her of the sewer pits in Skingrad, impossibly dark and absent of goodness.

 

“RUBY!!” He hollered.

 

Regina stood her ground, tensed and ready to move if need be.

 

“RUBY!!”

 

A woman came walking out of the sanctum moments later; Imperial as well by the looks of her thin, angular face and long brown hair.

 

“Trouble?” She said immediately upon spying Regina.

 

“Not sure.” Was his reply, blatantly ignoring the woman standing directly in front of him. “Says she wants to see the boss.”

 

“Best take her to him then.” Came Ruby’s reply. The man scowled.

 

“Well what if-” He began.

 

    “If she’s trouble, he’ll kill her.” She said simply, and Regina couldn’t help but smirk. Without another word, the fugitive followed her ‘host’ into the ruins while the bitter man brought up the rear. When the stone door closed behind them, realization dawned on the woman.

 

This is happening.

 

She had escaped Cyrodiil, escaped her mother, she was free.

  
Now, her only task was to stay hidden, and stay alive. 

 


	2. Scroll II: The Blue Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to (not limited to) the characters, concepts, places, names or origin stories of Once Upon a Time, or Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The names of various characters have been altered to fit the Tamriel/Skyrim naming convention however. I've included a small cheat-sheet at the end for those of you wondering, and it will only involve characters from the previous chapter. Just to keep you (potentially) guessing. 
> 
> In other news, I'm sorry it took me so long to update! I've been in a bit of a funk lately, but writing this felt pretty good. Also, I'm looking for a Beta for the next few chapters, if anyone is available/willing. It would be very much appreciated!

 

* * *

 

_Solitude_

   

 

    “Jarl Ema, I beg you to consider! If you do not take action immediately, we will face great pressure from Ulfric and his... _Stormcloaks_.” The words rolled off Graeme’s tongue with a hushed distasteful lilt, dark eyes looking over the form of a pensive woman.

 

    Moments passed where she said nothing in response to her steward’s statement, instead staring blankly ahead into the great throne room where the High King of Skyrim lay, fitfully asleep. The two onlookers standing in the doorway shared an uneasy glance, before backing off into the corridor.

 

    “I just don’t see how he can pull this off.” The blonde said as they walked away from the sleeping King. “Really,” She continued. “If Ulfric wants to be High King he’d basically have to kill King Aurum to do it, and even then the backlash from the Imperials would be immense.”

 

    Graeme looked at her with mild surprise. “You’ve given this some thought.” He stated, earning him a reproachful stare from the Jarl. “You make it seem like I wouldn’t have.” She retorted.

 

   “It’s not that,” Graeme took a few quick steps forward to pull open a heavy door for her as they entered the stateroom. “Merely that I didn’t think it would rank so highly in your list of responsibilities as Jarl, especially with Jarl Bulgruuf being indecisive about his loyalty to the empire. General Nolan seems to think the Stormcloaks will mount an assault on Whiterun.”

 

    Ema sighed in response, nodding her thanks as she passed into the room and took a seat at a large table. “I have to admit, I can see why my husband felt the need to run away from all this… it _is_ a lot to think about.” Her tone was tired, deflated, and yet not bereft of emotion.

    Memories of a younger version of herself, laughing and carousing with an adolescent Baelfire flashed behind her eyelids; his queasy smile, his chuckle the first time he caught her stealing from the treasury, it all came back in an instant when she tried to recall why she married the former Jarl in the first place. Removing the gold circlet from her head, she placed it on the table and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

 

   “But it still stands that the two issues are interconnected.” She continued. “I can’t think about one issue without stopping to consider the other. Gods forbid… you don’t think Ulfric will try to mount an assault before the High King dies, do you?” The question was kept quiet, green eyes narrowing as though the news of Aurum’s eminent demise was a secret. All of Tamriel was aware of King Aurum’s ailing health, suspicious in nature as it was, especially with the recent Stormcloak uprising in connection with the White-Gold Concordat banning the worship of Talos.

 

    The young Jarl looked down at the circlet on the table, brow knitting together in concern as the weight from her thoughts poured itself into her heart.

 

    Graeme cleared his throat.

 

    “I don’t know.” He said a few moments later. “A few months ago, I would have said there weren’t enough of his Nord followers to warrant any real concern, but with the High King in such poor condition, and the return of the dragons... “ The steward noted the added look of distress present itself on his Jarl’s face. “It's as though Skyrim’s being torn apart at the seams.”

 

    Ema could only nod. “And we’re the ones who have to fix it?”

 

    Graeme snorted, grinning mirthlessly. “Always the hero.”

 

    Another sharp gaze, and the blonde woman retorted: “It isn’t likely that we can just wait it out, is it? As Jarl of Solitude I have a responsibility to my people, yes, but also to all of Skyrim.”

 

    “Why’s that?”

 

    “Well…” Ema’s lips pressed thin into a tight line before she shrugged. “If Aurum Nigellus dies, there will be a period without a king. I’m starting to think that, while Ulfric might have wanted to be High King before, gaining the title with Skyrim’s support, he might be willing to try and take it by force. He’s gotten enough of a following now to really make a change, you know.”

 

    Graeme nodded.

 

    “Just think of it, Graeme.” She said, now focused intently on her steward. Leaning forward, her expression turned serious as realization hit her. “If Ulfric and his Stormcloaks gain power - and a majority  favour in Skyrim, they might even try and flush out the Thalmor! Then we’d have a full-scale war on our hands.”

 

    Frowns were exchanged between them at the possibility. “You should speak to General Nolan about this.” Was Graeme’s reply.

 

    Slouching back in her chair in a most unladylike manner, the Jarl sighed and let her hands fall into her lap. “I know what he’ll want to do.”

 

    “Oh?” Graeme hummed.

 

    “He’ll want to send out parties to conquer Stormcloak territory, try and win back some of the holds.”

 

    The steward nodded, rubbing the short stubble on his face. “And you see this as a problem because… ?”

 

    “Because we should be more concerned about keeping the dragons at bay than worrying about this stupid war!” Ema exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Alduin has returned - you heard about Helgen, and how Ulfric escaped the guillotine… which is partially the reason we’re losing this civil war, and instead of uniting as a people we’re squabbling over who gets to wear the biggest crown!”

 

    At this, her servant and friend smiled. It was genuine however, and he nodded in understanding. A soft laugh escaped his lips. “I have been your steward for almost ten years, and not once have I seen you get this worked up over a political issue.”

 

    The blonde rolled her eyes. “I know you think I would have been better suited to the military -”

 

    “Not a chance, they would have had your head for misconduct and disobedience.”

 

    “Those days are long behind me, Graeme.”

 

    “Obviously.”

 

    For the first time in what felt like days, she laughed. The man sitting opposite her had been a good friend to her, and an even better advisor over the years, becoming indispensable when it came to matters of politics. Together they made a very appealing duo - Ema the Fair and Graeme Gavel of Solitude - that worked well in their favour, especially after Jarl Baelfire fled the city. Still, the woman had to admit that she felt as though the Gods were laughing at her from afar.

 

    “Why not sleep on it.” He suggested, extricating her from her trip down memory lane. “Sleep, and speak to the General in the morning - he’ll be glad to know you’re taking this seriously.”

 

    “Fine.” Ema conceded, fingers absentmindedly toying at the blue jewels set into her circlet.

 

    “Your son returns tomorrow.” Graeme offered as he stood, chair scraping against the stone floor.

 

    The blonde seemed to perk up at this news, as though she had indeed forgotten. “That’s right.” She said, a rare kind of radiance in her smile. “Then we’d both best get some rest. You know how he loves to talk -” Replacing the royal band on her head, she mirrored his action and pushed the chair lightly back in. “After a week in Whiterun, I’m sure I'll need a silencing spell for all the information and stories he’ll spout.”

 

    “Divines smile on you, friend.”

 

    The Jarl laughed once more, the heaviness in her heart made lighter with the promise of seeing her Henrik return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The last chapter (Scroll I: Escape from Cyrodiil) included the following characters: 
> 
> Cora Cordis of Skingrad - Cora Mills/Queen of Hearts  
> Sidon, Housecarl of Skingrad - Sydney Glass/Genie (deceased)  
> Regina Cordis - Regina Mills/Evil Queen  
> Ruby - Ruby/Red Riding Hood
> 
> Most of those were pretty obvious. Who did you find this time?


	3. Scroll III: Riverwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to (not limited to) the characters, concepts, places, names or origin stories of Once Upon a Time, or Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The names of various characters have been altered to fit the Tamriel/Skyrim naming convention however - if you have a hard time figuring out who's who, let me know. 
> 
> Also, I'm so sorry my updates are so inconsistent, for those of you reading. I've been having a rough time at school lately, but hopefully since I dropped a class I'll be able to focus a little more on my own creative things. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

 

   Regina slept fitfully on the stone bed, a fur bedroll laid out for her by the woman Ruby, who had seemingly been given charge of her while staying at  Southfringe. The wind howled outside, on occasion waking the fugitive from panicked dreams of Imperial soldiers coming to take her away. Her eyes always searched for something familiar when she woke, finding only the barren walls of the Sanctum, and Ruby’s watchful gaze as she sat a few feet away.

 

   Something about the young woman unnerved her - she was younger than herself to be sure, but there was a kind of hunger in her eyes that reminded her too much of her mother. It was the look an animal got after deciding which unfortunate creature would be its next meal; unlike Cora however, Ruby seemed to relish the life of a bandit, without class or ceremony to tie her down. This relaxation assuaged Regina’s unease, and after a curt nod between them, the Imperial rolled to her other side and fell back into a light sleep.

 

   When morning finally came, Ruby tossed a fur cloak roughly over Regina, waking her instantly.

 

   “What in Daedra’s name do you think you’re doing?!” She spat, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

 

    Ruby laughed from the corner of the room, dressed in her usual garb with two added pelts from a large animal Regina couldn’t identify. The brown hues matched her long hair, which fell out over a fur collar and hood that would hide her face completely if pulled up.

 

   “It’s time to go, your highness.” Ruby replied with a wide grin, showing incredibly straight teeth.

 

   Regina visibly tensed at the suggestion, relaxing only when she remembered that Ruby wasn’t there to take her back to Cyrodiil. Her lips tightened, putting on an impressive scowl before rising to her feet, bringing the cloak with her as she stood.

 

   Her usually impeccably-groomed hair now flipped out at the ends without the aide of her servants, and her makeup worn from the previous day’s travel. She thought of it only for a moment, brushing the notion aside that she should look anything other than what she was: on the run. Pulling the fur around her shoulders, she looked around for the bag she had brought.

 

   “I’ve got your bag.” Ruby said, sensing the other woman’s growing distress.

 

   Brown eyes narrowed. “Why do you have my bag, Ruby?”

 

   Her hand tugged the edge of her cloak aside to confirm her statement, the leather satchel hanging by the bandit’s lithe frame. “I didn’t want us getting slowed down. We have to move quickly if we’re to reach Whiterun by nightfall.”

 

   Regina’s mouth opened slightly, a dozen questions hovering on her lips, fighting for her first sounds. The insinuation that her own supplies would slow them down more if _she_ was to carry them made her blood boil. Ignoring Ruby’s height and obvious athletic frame, Regina rippled at the notion that she couldn’t do this without help.

 

 _But I can’t_. She reminded herself, anger simmering.

 

   “Whiterun?” Regina echoed, bending to pick up the gloves that she had laid out by her bedroll.

 

   “The boss says it’s the best place to hide out for a few days if you’re on the run. It’s big enough to hide you, and they have a temple there so if worst comes to worst you can claim sanctuary.” Her answer made enough sense to the fugitive, who prompted Ruby to continue with a nod.

   “Riverwood and Helgen are too small - but we’ll pass through the Inn in Riverwood. Lots of rumors hit those parts, and if your mother’s sent out the entire Imperial army out after you we’ll be able to find out there.”

 

   Regina’s breath caught in her throat, willing herself (somewhat successfully) to stay calm. “Well, Whiterun it is.” She said, looking down at the dusty ground, resisting the urge to turn her nose up at the filth. “Will there be somewhere safe for me to stay?” She wondered aloud, having decided that the taverns and inns would be far too obvious.

 

   Chuckling, the younger woman turned toward the door. “Bashnag has a slew of contacts up that way. He mentioned something about a farm outside the city being able to house you in their meadery.”

 

   _Fantastic_. She thought. _Another place full of straw and muck_. She realized that beggars couldn’t be choosers, but knowing full well of her noble birth, she struggled with the idea that her new life would have far fewer comforts than in the past.

 

   Without another word, both women exited the Sanctum and trudged out into the blistering cold that awaited them.

 

…

 

   The journey had been a slow and arduous one, not without danger or risk of being caught either; Imperial scouts had indeed been stationed at various spots along the stone paths that led from the borders of Cyrodiil into Whiterun, and more than once, Regina and her guide had to rely on magic to get by unnoticed. For her part, Ruby was rather impressed with the mage’s use of illusion magic, who didn’t need the recognition - but appreciated it nonetheless.

 

   “How far away are we?” Regina asked, some hours after their latest near-run-in with wandering guards.

 

   Ruby stilled, and raised her chin slightly. It was a tick the older woman had picked up on early in their journey, and always reminded her of a creature sniffing out their prey. To her credit, Ruby had been spot on with noticing the Imperials before they themselves were spotted, so Regina had little doubt that the pause was necessary.

 

   After a moment, the brunette nodded, satisfied with her own powers of deduction. “An hour or two out at most.” Looking up ahead, she pulled down her hood for the first time since they left the sanctum. “Riverwood can get pretty warm this time of year, we should pull off the road and change quickly.”

 

   Regina tightened her lips. “Very well.”

 

    There was something in the relentless way that Ruby kept pace during their trip, never slowing down and saying little that made Regina feel guilty for being uncomfortably warm. Truth be told, she had been sticky with sweat under her layers of furs for quite some time, but stubbornly refused to complain in the presence of a bandit who somehow still, though wild, looked immaculate.

 

   Without another word, they veered off the path and into a thicket of brush, where there was also a large rock shielding them from view.

 

    Regina sucked in a relieved breath as the fresh air hit the bare skin of her arms and stomach  as she peeled off her cloak, followed by the thick robes she had worn on day one of her journey. Having done their duties, she folded both articles  neatly before resting them on the mossy ground. Relishing the cleansing air an instant more, she then pulled her lighter mage’s robes from the bag Ruby had relinquished.

 

   They smelled of the Cordis estate - the incense burned by Sidon, and her mother’s sharp, cinnamon-filled perfume - homesickness washing over and causing her to screw her eyes shut. _Perish the thought_. She chided.   _Solitude will be your new home_.

 

   “You ready?”

 

   Regina snapped around to see her companion pop out from behind the rock. Her own attire had changed to a shorter fur cloak which seemed to be the exact same tone as her hair, and a simple canvas tunic atop her leggings.

 

   “Yes.” She replied, bending and placing her removed clothing in her bag with some difficulty.

 

   “Great. It’s a pretty straight shot from here.”

 

   “Good.” Regina breathed, feeling exhaustion already setting into her bones. It was well past noonday, and they hadn’t stopped to eat since the morning.

 

   With little more fuss they came upon Riverwood, a town that was small and quaint and smelled of pine trees and the metal forge that blew smoke directly into Regina’s face as they entered.

 

   Ruby chuckled. “Over here is the Trader. If you need to restock on anything before we head on to Whiterun, that’s your place. If not, I figured we’d head to the Inn for a meal and then set back out.”

 

   Regina nodded, not ready to contest the prospect of sitting down and eating, and without energy enough to gripe about leaving so soon.

 

   While the Imperial ate, Ruby would sneak off and chat in hushed tones over the counter with the owner of the Sleeping Giant, who seemed to have enough to say to keep the bandit interested. Regina noticed curious eyes on her more than once, and not only from the barkeep, and couldn’t help but shoot a paralyzing glare in anyone’s direction.

 

   When Ruby returned from her talk, she sat down, straddling the wooden bench and resting an arm on the table.

 

   “He says you’re the first Imperial he’s seen all day, but there have been a few soldiers in and out since last night.”

 

   “Word travels fast.”Was the only reply Regina could muster without an eyeroll that mirrored her own expectations of her mother’s reach.

 

   “I’ll say.” Ruby puffed, running a hand through her long hair. “I know it’s none of my business why you’re running, or who you’re running from, but you must be pretty important to have soldiers here looking for you before we got here.”

 

   Her knuckles clenched around her fork, and her lips tightened, but the fugitive resisted snapping at her guide. “Yes, it is none of your business.”

 

   Ruby grimaced and looked away.

 

   “Well, when you’re done there, we should head out. Whiterun is pretty close, but getting there before dark is best - we don’t want them to close the gates on us and make a scene trying to get in. If the Imperials are looking for you here, we shouldn’t dally.”

 

   On that point, Regina couldn’t agree more. Her Imperial looks were as plain as day, and her mother undoubtedly knew she wouldn’t make the journey alone - making them easy suspects for officials who already knew what to look for.

 

   Within the hour, they were already packed up and on the road once more. Sunset was an hour or two away yet, but Regina could feel her legs singing in pain with each step she took over the rocky ground. Her feet were blistered inside her leather boots, and she could tell that the smell of sweat clinging to her body wasn’t entirely unnoticed by the younger woman. She kept her eyes down, a mix of humiliation and determination to merely get there keeping her silent as well.

 

   When Whiterun loomed up at them from the foggy plain dotted with farms and properties, she sighed audibly in relief. Ruby offered a toothy grin, and a nod before heading down the hill.

  
   Regina was never so happy at the thought of being inside a meadery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The last chapter (Scroll II: The Blue Palace) included the following characters:
> 
> Jarl Ema The Fair - Emma Swan/The Savior  
> Graeme Gavel - Graham Humbert
> 
> Mention of another someone in there, not that it's a huge secret. For those of you who play Skyrim, Graeme is playing the role of Falk Firebeard.


	4. IV: The Boy At the Temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to (not limited to) the characters, concepts, places, names or origin stories of Once Upon a Time, or Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The names of various characters have been altered to fit the Tamriel/Skyrim naming convention however - if you have a hard time figuring out who's who, let me know.
> 
> Phew! This is a long one to be sure, but we're steadily getting closer to what will be the thick of it! And we have a couple new characters to introduce in this one, too. Let's see how familiar they are. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

_Castle Dour, Solitude_

 

    Ema paced around the ready room with a hand to her chin, green eyes deep in thought and lips pressed into a tight line. General Nolan stood across from her, a dour look on his face as he exchanged looks between the Jarl and his second-in-command.

 

    Legate Magda’s open, kind face often made Ema think the woman would have been better off somewhere as a scholar, were she not aware of the brunette’s whip-quick reflexes  and skill with a bow. That same face was now set in a determined cast, arms crossed over her chest.

 

    “Ulfric will want to take Whiterun from us, but we will hold fast. We can't give the rebellion free reign through the center of Skyrim.” Said the General, gaze now set on the table-wide map between them.

 

    “Is that fact or speculation?” Ema asked, visibly tensing.

 

    “Does it matter?” Magda replied, who was then given a nod of concurrence from her superior officer.

 

    Ema’s eyebrows raised. “Does it matter?” She echoed. “Does it matter if we march Imperial troops into Whiterun for no reason? If it is just speculation, that’s a lot of soldiers in an otherwise neutral city. Ulfric might even attack us then - assuming that we’re trying to take control.”

 

    “Whiterun is ours.” Stated Nolan, hand obscuring his mouth as he eyed the map’s marker labeled with the horse emblem.

 

    “Only in the historical sense.” Magda spoke up, bright eyes darting to Ema, whose confusion was apparent. “Whiterun has long been associated with an allegiance to the Empire, but as you know, Jarl Bulgruuf has been on the fence for quite some time about his own personal allegiance.”

 

    “Preposterous.” Added Nolan, punctuated by a grimace. “Mind you, regardless of his own personal feelings, he’s keeping Whiterun neutral as a whole, which is hard enough to do without either side breathing down your neck.”

 

    “Am I sensing some respect there?” Ema asked.

 

    At this, both General and Legate smiled, easing some unrealized stress. “Quite a bit.” Magda said, glancing at the man in a way that seemed almost too soft, loving, for their rank.

 

    “We fought once together, before he became Jarl.” Said Nolan between glances at Magda. “That was many years ago now. I would be surprised if he remembered.”

 

    The women were silent for a moment, as the General seemed to lose himself in thought for a spell, memories perhaps fresher than he would admit.

 

    When one of them finally spoke again, it was the Jarl who did so. “So what are we going to do about Whiterun?”

 

    “We sent undercover scouts to Whiterun with your son to assess the situation. When Henrik returns, we’ll have a better idea of what’s going on behind the city’s walls - and perhaps glean some insight into what the Stormcloaks are planning.” Replied Magda.

 

    “So we wait?” Ema asked curtly, evidently not a fan of the idea.

 

    “Indeed.” Nolan answered with a nod.

 

    Pursing her lips, the blonde woman left her commanders to their work, and headed back into the hallways where Graeme waited as her escort.

 

    “Any luck?” He asked, falling in step beside her at a hurried clip.

 

    Green eyes flashed with frustration. “If we’re depending on luck to stop this civil war, I’ll have the town crier announce we’d best surrender now.”

 

    “My Jarl, the General will sort it out. Leave that to him and concentrate on the dragons.”

 

    “Graeme!” She snapped, her head whipping around to meet his gaze. “We won’t have to worry about what Alduin will do to us if we can’t be united as a people! Only Ulfric feels that this is an appropriate time to wage his stupid war!”

 

    She seethed, knuckles white as she tried to maintain some composure. Graeme looked unphased, his blue eyes calm in comparison to those of his companion.

    He said nothing, knowing that this outburst was merely a fraction of what she felt - years ago, she would have faced down a dragon herself if it meant survival, but as the Jarl, she couldn’t fight.

    Not only that, but she was isolated, in relative solitude, the cruelest kind of irony after her husband absconded from his duties. The laurels of Solitude bound her to her throne, yet even with power over the people, she had not the power to protect them with her own hands.

 

    “If Ulfric overthrows Skyrim, and his Nords are allowed free run of the province, not only will the Aldmeri Dominion retaliate, but the dragons will come in and claim our cities for their own. The Stormcloaks don’t just want the Altmer gone, Graeme - they’d soon be driving out other races too - even those who pledged their allegiance!”

 

    The steward chewed his lip in the face of his Jarl’s passion. He had to admit, for a woman who was essentially a thief-turned-Jarl, her heart was certainly in the right place, despite their mutual doubts that she had the ability to solve the issues without bloodshed.

 

    Graeme chose his words carefully, eyeing the few nobles milling about in the palace courtyard as they passed.

 

    “Ema, what matters right now is keeping Solitude - and Skyrim safe. You can make that a lot easier by making a call on the Whiterun situation. I know that we’ve trusted General Nolan and Legate Magda to make most of the military decisions, but your opinion on the matter bears more weight than theirs in the longrun. Once Henrik and the convoy returns, we’ll call a meeting to discuss.”

 

The angry flush in Ema’s cheeks dulled, and she nodded her silent agreement.

 

“I just wish it was someone else dealing with this.” She admitted.

 

“King Aurum is in no position to make decisions like thi-”

 

“I know.” She interrupted, eyebrow twitching. “I know.”

    Heaving a sigh, she climbed the stairs to the throne room. Turning on the steps, she looked back down at Graeme for a moment, adding: “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if Baelfire hadn’t… vanished?” The last word was said as a courtesy - for they both knew her husband had merely run far away, both from his responsibilities and his family.

 

The steward shrugged. “I don’t give it much thought, no, my Jarl. Seems better this way.”

 

Her expectant expression urged him to elaborate.

 

    “Jarl Baelfire was strong, but a sight less comfortable with ruling than you are. Not to mention, he always cracked under pressure. If he hadn’t run then, he would have now. No, Solitude is safer with you sitting on that throne.”

 

A smile was his reward, and bowed as she continued up the stairs to sit atop her stone perch.

  


…

 

_Whiterun_

  


    In the two days since they arrived, Regina had become well-acquainted with the city of Whiterun; a cursory knowledge had been afforded to her thanks to childhood visits with her mother, but this new adventure was something the woman couldn’t deny a certain excitement for. As promised, Ruby had kept them out of the larger parts of town that would raise questions about her identity - though Whiterun guards answered to the Jarl, they all held Imperial swords and were therefore just as untrustworthy as a Legionnaire.

 

    In Mid Year sun, both women kept close to the large wooden buildings in the Plains district to avoid notice. In the evening however, Ruby convinced the older woman to accompany her into the Jorrvaskr, a place where Bashnag had contacts that could potentially help Regina with a way out of the city undetected.

 

“You’ve got gold, I imagine.” She said, leading the Imperial up the steps to the Wind District.

 

Regina scoffed. “No, I fled my home and province with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

 

Ruby rolled her eyes.

 

“Yes, of course I have gold. A fair bit, too, not that it’s any of your business.”

 

    Looking forward to the looming outline of the Jorrvaskr, Ruby couldn’t help but smile. Regina Cordis was sassy, impatient, haughty, and most definitely the most privileged woman she had ever had to escort anywhere - but she couldn’t help but like her. There was still a vulnerability there, one that she used to fuel her strength and resolve. The woman was tougher than she looked, and Ruby liked that.

 

    They said nothing more as they rose up to the doors of the great wooden structure, when the bandit paused and turned back to her charge. “Probably best if you don’t say anything once we’re in there. The boss’ contacts are good, but there’s no way of knowing if the Imperials have already paid these guys off for your capture.”

 

Glaring, the raven-haired woman’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You mean, this could be nothing more than a very clever trap?”

 

Ruby answered with a grin, and an upward quirk of the eyebrows.

 

Regina would have protested, had the doors not been pulled open at that moment by someone on the inside, the smell of fire and mead instantly taking over their senses.

 

“The Companions welcome you, travelers.” The woman who opened the door looked fierce - a Nord by all appearances, grey war paint splashed across her forehead and bridge.

 

“The Companions?” Ruby asked sweetly, her large smile instantly working its effects on a few men who sat a table further into the hall.

 

    The door shut behind them, and Regina barely paid attention to the conversation going on between her guide and their new hostess as she surveyed the interior. Arching beams of wood supported the massive roof, all different kinds and cut expertly - Regina could tell the building was old, yet stronger and more durable than many in Cyrodiil. This was a house for warriors - the smell alone told her that - and her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the twenty-odd people milling about, with their weapons strewn carelessly on benches and hooks all around.

 

Just then, the woman who had let them in interrupted her thoughts, along with a sharp nudge in the arm by Ruby.

 

“I asked, what is being offered in exchange for safe passage to Solitude?” The Nord woman’s voice was strong, and her stare unwavering, challenging the Imperial.

 

“Gold. As much as you need, within reason of course.” She replied firmly.

 

    Sizing her up, the woman - a huntress named Aela, as Ruby had just found out - sniffed slightly, a motion Regina wouldn’t have thought was out of place had she not seen her guide do the same thing in the days prior. Before long, she nodded. “Then let me speak to Widow Grey-Mane.”

 

    She turned and left without more of an explanation. By this time, Ruby had already gone to sit at one of the large wooden tables alongside a few rough-looking men. They had the same hard look in their eyes as their female cohort. Being the observative woman she was, Regina noted that Ruby herself had some of that same spark - a brightness, a gleaming, as though there was a pinprick of light gleaming through a dark, murky secret.

 

Pursing her lips, Regina followed up by taking a seat next to the other woman, minding not to make eye contact with either of the two men sitting directly across them.

 

“So who’s this Widow Grey-Mane?” The younger brunette asked, which earned her a toothy grin from both Companions.

 

“You’re one of Bashnag’s girls and you don’t know?” One said incredulously.

 

“She’s Kodlak’s second. Been doing this longer than any of us - if a thing don’t get her approval, it don’t get done.” Answered the other, taking a swig of his strong mead.

 

Ruby looked thoughtful. “Sounds like my kind of woman. Take-charge and all that.”

 

    Regina said nothing, feeling incredibly uncomfortable around the easygoing men, and the even easier-going bandit. Ruby looked right at home - already a glass of mead was being poured for her, and she sat with one arm resting on the table.

 

Back straight and legs crossed, the Imperial kept her eyes trained on the door into which Aela had gone.

 

    Minutes passed, all the while Ruby kept up her chatter with the two men, who laughed and caroused right along with her. Finally, a grey-haired woman entered behind Aela, who returned looking as dour as she had before. The older woman’s appearance took Regina aback - short, stout, and with her long grey hair pulled back into a loose bun. Under her steel pauldrons there was a fur and cloth tunic, not unlike those worn by the other Companions. She was old, but she was a warrior.

 

She approached, and Ruby’s talking ceased.

 

“I hear you’re looking for safe passage to Solitude.” She said, looking directly at Regina.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you can pay.”

 

“Yes.”

 

    “Good. We’ll arrange something for you, although I suspect it won’t be with any of us. There’s a convoy leaving the city this afternoon to Solitude - a young noble is traveling back with a group of Solitude soldiers.” The tension in Regina’s stomach was beginning to unwind until the Grey-Mane woman mentioned the Imperial legion. Panic flashed across her features before she could stop herself.

 

“If you go to the temple, now, you’ll find that young boy. Convince him that  you are a traveling priestess of Kynareth on her pilgrimage.” Said the elderly Companion.

 

“What good will that do?” Regina answered petulantly, stress crawling up the base of her spine like flames licking at an oiled rag.

 

At this, both Ruby and the Grey-Mane woman scoffed. Regina frowned - clearly she was missing the point.

 

“The Imperials are looking for an Imperial mage, aren’t they?” Ruby interrupted. “They won’t be looking for a Priestess traveling with a convoy.”

  


    “Precisely.” Widow Grey-Mane replied. “The young boy is kind. He’s the son of Jarl Ema the Fair - if you were to tell him your pilgrimage should take you to Solitude, he would almost certainly invite you along.”

 

This did nothing to ease Regina’s fear. “And I’m supposed to trust the goodwill of a boy to get me in on a convoy that might lead me straight to my mother’s people?”

 

    “It’s better than nothing.” Ruby said. “One of the companions could take you, but I’m betting it would take at least twice as long. By then, all of Skyrim would know who you are and it would be almost impossible to get into the city without being taken in and questioned.”

 

    Silently, Regina sat in contemplation. She knew there wasn’t much time, but fear rooted her to the spot and held her lips tight together. All eyes were on her, and she stared hard at the table in front of her to escape their questioning gaze.

 

    “Alright.” She said finally, conceding. “If he doesn’t take me however,” Regina paused, looking pointedly up at Widow Grey-Mane. “I will be back. And I will have one of you take me there.”

 

    Ruby was about to protest her insolence, when a hand was raised to quiet her. Regina’s brown eyes were full of fear, but full of resolve and regality. The elder warrior cracked a smile, and nodded. “Alright. If you make it to Solitude, we will send one of ours to collect the fee. Now go.”

 

The fugitive stood, waiting for her guide to rise and accompany her. Ruby however, didn’t move save  for passing Regina her bag of supplies from her seat.

 

“Bashnag only paid me to take you this far.” She explained. “Now that I’m here, I might stick around for a while.”

 

Regina nodded. A softness came over Ruby’s features, as she added: “Take care of yourself though, alright?”

 

A rare smile pulled at the corners of full lips, and Regina bowed her head slightly. “Yes. Thank you.”

 

    The temple, she learned, was across the courtyard behind the old Gildergreen. Parting from her escort, Regina left Jorrvaskr with her head down. She hurried toward the gilded building, ducking inside before anyone outside had a chance to see.

 

…

 

    Inside the temple was beautiful; sunlight streamed in through stained glass windows, illuminating a beautifully tiled floor, a shining mosaic centered in the large room. A few beds for the sick lay on the outside of the room, some of them occupied, but an air of tranquility prevailed.

 

    The few priestesses who milled about wore robes a similar colour to her own. Though they were hooded, Regina smiled to herself - she figured she could easily pass for one of them, and that thought warmed her soul ever so slightly.

 

“Hello.” Came a voice behind her. She turned, but saw no one. Until she looked down, that is.

 

    A young boy, no older than nine or ten stared up at her with big hazel eyes. He was handsome, and full of an innocence that might have reminded her of a much younger, weaker version of herself.

 

She smiled brightly - a practiced, charming, elegant smile. - one that was usually reserved for politicians and nobles back in Cyrodiil. “Hello there.”

 

To her delight, the young boy’s smile broadened. “I haven’t seen you here before.” He said, looking her up and down.

 

“No.” She replied. “You wouldn’t have - but, do you come here often?”

 

The boy shook his head. “I’ve been studying with the healers here. I’m going home today.”

 

    “Ah.” Regina said, patiently waiting for him to inquire further. He seemed like a good-natured boy, and a seed of guilt planted itself in her heart at the thought of having to lie to him.

 

“So, are you from this temple?” He asked.

 

 _There it is_. The Imperial thought.

 

    “No indeed, my dear. I’m traveling from the Temple of Mara, in Riften.” She fibbed. “I am on my pilgrimage, and have been instructed to go to the Temple of the Divines in Solitude for my initiation into Priesthood.”

 

    Luckily for her, what seemed like stars lit up in the boy’s eyes as she spoke. “Solitude!” He exclaimed, though careful to keep his enthusiasm to an appropriate volume. “That’s my city! Are you going there soon?” He asked quickly. “I’ve been to the Temple of the Divines many times! It’s so beautiful - I could show you around!”

 

Regina’s smile softened as a bitterness took up residence in her expression. He was so trusting. That guilty seed grew.

 

    “That’s so very kind of you.” The fugitive bowed her head graciously. “You may have a while to wait however, as I am devoted to the Divines, and have no money with which to buy a passage.”

 

    Her features were calm, serene, and so enticing to the young boy who looked up at her with reverence. Sorrow darted across his youthful face, and he thought deeply on something. Regina had never been good with children, but she felt the stirrings of something almost maternal for this boy whom she deceived.

 

    After a moment, he looked back up at her and said: “Why don’t you come with us? We’re leaving very soon, but you’ll be with a con… a cara... “ He struggled to remember the word. “A big group of people! Yeah, you can travel with us, and you can go to the Temple sooner.”

 

Before she could reply, he frowned. “Wait, that’s not cheating… is it?”

 

Regina couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his doubt, shaking her head. “Cheating?” She echoed.

 

“Your pilgrimage, I mean. You can’t pay to get there, but can you be offered transportation?”

 

    Her smile widened, this time a genuine look of gratitude and appreciation. “Kindness is in all of our hearts,” She said, ignoring the turn of her stomach at the mention of her family’s namesake. “And it is my responsibility not to overlook it in others. I would be honored to be a part of your convoy.”

 

    His excitement was secured. “Convoy!” He exclaimed, this time a little too loudly. A priestess shot them a slightly reproachful glance from the flowerbeds on the far side of the room.

 

They both flushed, and looked down, and then up at each other.

 

“What’s your name, miss?” He asked, suddenly shy.

 

    “Regina.” She answered before she could stop herself. Dread filled her, but only momentarily as her brain worked quickly. “But my name as given to me by the Temple is Uriana. I would be honored if you would call me by that name.”

 

Fortune was with her, she realized, as the boy’s grin returned.

 

“Alright. My name is Henrik Nigellus. But you can call me Henrik.”

 

“Very well, Henrik.” Regina nodded, and extended a hand for him to shake. He did so, and the deal was struck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The last chapter (Scroll III: Riverwood) included the following characters:
> 
> Regina Cordis - Regina Mills/Evil Queen (but she's not so evil in this one)  
> Ruby - Ruby Lucas/Little Red Riding Hood


	5. Scroll V: A New City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to (not limited to) the characters, concepts, places, names or origin stories of Once Upon a Time, or Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The names of various characters have been altered to fit the Tamriel/Skyrim naming convention however - if you have a hard time figuring out who's who, let me know.
> 
> FINALLY! Ha ha, it's not as fluffy as I had hoped, but Skyrim isn't a super fluffy place. Another update soon, I promise - this is where the fun really begins.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

 

    No part of her journey had been simpler, Regina thought as she sat comfortably in a carriage across from Henrik, his nose buried in a book.

 

    Ten minutes after their talk, an escort from Solitude had entered the temple to summon the young noble out into the main circle. After explaining very eloquently his predicament with his newfound friend in tow, the man had little choice but to acquiesce to him.

 

Not an hour later, and they were on the road.

    The convoy was relatively small; a few horse-drawn carriages pulled the bulk of their party, along with a few carts full of food supplies and goods being brought back to the capital. True to Widow Grey-Mane’s word, there were men walking alongside all carriages, but she noted that the four flanking their carriage all had the same steely expression that many of the Imperial soldiers wore back in Cyrodiil.

 

    Henrik had been very talkative throughout much of the trip, taking turns between blathering on about why Windhelm was going to have a harsher Sun’s Dusk than normal, and showing her expertly-drawn illustrations from the novel he was now so engrossed in. To his credit, she thought him a very smart boy, and while perhaps a little too kind and trusting, she appreciated the kindness in him that had allowed this part of her journey to be made in relative luxury.

 

    Six hours later, the great Blue Palace loomed out over the landscape. Across the fjord, Regina saw its unmistakable blue peaks and cupola, immediately sending a wave of pride through her. She had made it.

 

    Her legs were sore from sitting, as they had taken only one short break throughout their journey, but it had been a short one thanks to the steeds that now trudged the final few hundred yards  up to the gates.

 

    Henrik had since fallen asleep to the jostling of the carriage, and Regina hated to rouse him, for he looked peaceful in his state, and her guilt at being a liar was better kept at bay when he was not asking her personal questions. She reached across to gently shake his shoulder, pushing a lock of chestnut hair our of his eyes at the same time.

 

She drew her hand back quickly, shocked at her own behaviour.

 

The boy woke then, unaware of his passenger’s internal struggle as he smiled. “Are we there?” He asked groggily.

 

Regina nodded, looking outside at the gates passing by.

 

Henrik pulled himself upright and mirrored her action, grin incessant as his eyes drunk in the familiar territory.

 

“Glad to be home?” The statement reminded her all too quickly of her own home, and how she didn’t know when - or if - she would see Cyrodiil, or Skingrad again.

 

“Yes!” The noble replied enthusiastically, though his attention was still trained on the moving landscape.

 

Regina took the opportunity to look out of the carriage herself, and observe what she could see of Solitude.

 

     Buildings made of pale stone made up for the most part, all of a similar style and build. Wooden beams supported many of the stone foundations as secondary additions, while some smaller shops and houses were built on wooden frames and used stone merely as an aesthetic addition.

 

     From what she could see, the city was every bit a fortress as she had been told as a child. Beautiful, expansive, and the perfect thing for remaining unnoticed by the few Legionnaires wandering about.

 

     Before long, they reached the gates of the Blue Palace. The caravan finally pulled to a stop to unload, those who weren’t nobles disembarking and setting about removing their wares from the convoy.

 

Henrik began shifting about, collecting the few personal items he had left open in the carriage - most of which were books.

 

     Regina herself only had the bag at her side, though during the trip she had pulled a hood out from the satchel and set it aside for the moment they arrived. Now that the moment was upon them, she pushed her raven hair behind her ears and slid the hood over her head delicately, looking as much an acolyte as possible.

 

The door was opened then, and one of the disguised soldiers moved out of the way for her to descend. He offered his hand, which she did not move to take.

 

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye.” She said to Henrik.

 

     “Yeah.” He nodded, his smile finally losing a little brilliance as he looked out the open door, and then back to her. “But, can I come find you at the temple? I still want to show you around if I can.”

 

     Regina bowed her head, a small smile gracing her lips. “Yes.” She said, her chest pulling her both away from, and toward the honest little boy. “I would like that very much.”

 

     She’d have much to do in the meantime, she realized. Staying at the temple was a fallback plan - it would provide her with some security, but she would be very limited in her ability to move and fight if the need should arise. Feeling trapped and tied down as something the Imperial wanted to avoid at all costs.

 

As she stepped down from the carriage, Henrik said: “I’ll see you soon!”

 

Looking back, she gave the boy a sad half-smile. She couldn’t reply, as much as she wanted to - false hope was something she despised.

 

…

 

_The Temple of the Divines_

 

Solitude was much larger than she thought.

 

The grand temple she now stood inside was breathtaking - and a much-needed rest stop from her day of exploring the capital.

 

     High arches of stone encased a cavernous nave and crossing, elegant pillars standing to support the lofty ceilings. The space was lit by tall windows decorated with stained glass. Overall, it was a much more impressive space than the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun, though with a less welcoming atmosphere.

  
  


     Sunlight poured in, yellowing as the hour grew later.  The temple was quiet at this time, a few civilians sitting in pews with their heads down, while an acolyte wandered near the altar, speaking softly. Regina took this time to take a seat herself, and take a few breaths before considering her plan of action.

 

     Her hands clasped together in her lap, she breathed deeply, trying to will away some of the pent-up anxiety that had been hanging over since her arrival. The problem with staying was that she’d eventually be noticed - and found out by the active priestess at the Temple - a Nord named Freir who was currently tending to the greenery at the other end of the cathedral space. While the priestess and other temple workers couldn’t do much - after all, she hadn’t committed any crimes save lying here and there, but they would be aware of her true identity if they took any measures to find out. It wouldn’t be difficult.

 

      _The more people who know…_ She thought grimly, feeling a rush of heat to her fingertips that she had to physically extinguish by clenching her palm. Her fire was under control, but the destruction magic in her flowed through her veins the same as her blood - which was also notably uncommon among priestesses and acolytes.

 

     Regina decided then that staying around the temple would be good, but only in a carefully monitored way. Since arriving, she had realized that Freir had been the only Priestess present - after leaving, she would stay close and wait for the next temple worker to begin before returning.

 

In the meantime, she decided to explore the temple, keeping to the sidelines and making a visual map of the layout.

 

     Once or twice, a civilian came to seek advice - which she kindly deflected under the guise of being under a vow of silence. With every lie, she could feel a part of her slipping away - but after all, that was what she wanted: to reinvent herself, to become someone other than Regina Cordis of Skingrad. She wanted to  escape being caught, to escape a fate laid out for her by her mother.

 

A life on her own terms was all she wanted, and if she had to lie in order to get it - well, Regina decided she’d learn to deal with it.

 

…

 

“Go out? Go where?” Ema asked the young boy sitting across from her.

 

     His chestnut hair was stuck up on one side from being ruffled so many times by his mother who,  now stared at him with an expression of mild concern. Smiling, Henrik replied: “To the Temple.” At this, Ema looked between her son and Graeme, who stood in the corner of the room.

 

“Please, ma?” He asked, flashing his very best smile - a smile definitely inherited from her, though no one would make the connection.

 

“But you just came back.” She said, eyebrows raised. “You’ve only just eaten dinner and you want to go out - what’s gotten into you?”

 

Henrik was reluctant to speak, though she could see that his enthusiasm for _whatever_ it was clearly on his round face.

 

     For his part, he thought of lying, and telling her it was to do with the temple itself. He could think of a million and one things to say about the glory of the Temple of the Divines, not the least of which was that he missed the space, the smell, and the feeling that nothing in Tamriel could hurt him there. Temples always felt like a safe place to him, which was undoubtedly in part because of the books he read speaking to the spiritual magic living within the houses of the Divines.

 

Though he had no magic himself, he was often jealous of the mages and priests that he met there.

 

Finally, having decided on the truth, he said: “I want to go meet a friend.”

 

     This time, both Graeme and the blonde’s eyebrows shot sky high.  “A friend?” She asked, half-accusing. Henrik didn’t have _friends_. She thought with no small measure of protectiveness. It was also true - never had she seen him playing with the other boys in court, and though he left the palace often, it was never to meet someone.

 

     Still, the boy’s face was alight with truthfulness - something Ema herself was most apt to pick out from people in general. “I met her in Whiterun. Her name is ... “ He paused, remembering the name she had mentioned was her preferred name. “Uriana.”

 

     “Uriana?” Both adults echoed. Ema, suspicious of everyone as it was, narrowed her eyes at the name - though not for any reason in particular, but for the fact that she claimed to know her son.

 

     “I met her at the Temple of Kynareth.” Henrik explained, seeing his mother’s reaction. “She said she was coming here on a pilgrimage. She’s going to be a priestess.” The last statement was said very matter-of-factly, and he noted with satisfaction that Ema’s frown lessened.

 

“So can I go, please?”

 

     The man and woman exchanged glances, and Graeme shrugged. Ema bristled, but knew he did so because he knew the young boy - he was as sneaky and slight as both of his parents, and would have found a way out if that’s what he set his mind to. Better to give permission than to deny, in this case.

 

     The Jarl sighed, leaning forward in her chair to reach across the table and take one of his small hands in hers. “Yes, you can go.” She said, watching his grin widen twofold. “But please don’t be long. I’ve been gone a week - I missed you. I want to spend time with you too, you know.”

 

     Hazel eyes looked on, unwaveringly across the table at his mother. “I missed you too.” He said, squeezing her hand. “I just want to make sure she’s okay. Even though she’s a grown-up, being alone in a new place can be scary.”

 

Ema’s heart almost broke for her son’s kindness.

 

WIth that, how could she say no?

 

      “So,” She said finally, exhaling deeply. “Away you go. It’s already dark, so you stay where the guards can see you. No more than an hour, alright Henri?” He smiled at his pet name and nodded.

 

“Promise.” He agreed. He meant it.

 

Graeme ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately as he passed, leaving his dinner half-eaten on the table.

 

“Henri!” Ema called out, causing him to turn just as he exited the room. His eyes were wide, questioning.

 

“Tell your friend that if she needs anything, she can come here.”

 

Smirking - an expression altogether too reminiscent of his father - the brunette replied: “Because you’d rather her come here, than me be out at night by myself?”

 

“What mother wouldn’t?” Was her answer, mimicking his sassy expression.

 

“Okay.” He said, turning. “Thanks, ma.”

 

     After saying another round of goodbyes, she too was up on her feet and walking him to the great doors in the antechamber. She waved him off, feeling odd about the whole thing.

 

…

 

     Regina had found herself a quiet alcove in the main chamber of the temple, where she was finally able to sit in peace. Her nerves were shot from the journey, and it was finally catching up with her. Tired, and physically exhausted by the ordeal, she coughed quietly and felt a discomfort in her chest. It weighed differently on her than the stress of being a fugitive, or the guilt at deceiving an innocent young boy.

 

Moments later, she groaned inwardly.

 

It was the beginnings of an illness.

 

     Cursing her stupidity for not taking better care of herself on the expedition through harsh mountain ranges and snow-covered crags, she didn’t notice a certain young boy push open the doors of the temple, nearly jumping when he saw the Imperial in her corner.

 

“Uriana?” He whispered, careful not to upset the tranquility of the space.

 

His voice shocked her out of her reprimand, and she looked up, wide-eyed into the freckled face of Henrik Nigellus.

 

“Hello again.” She said, the smile on her face the most genuine of expressions.

 

“I’m so glad I found you!” He said with hushed enthusiasm.

 

“Where else would I be?” She replied softly, immediately feeling the dense guilt weighing in her chest.

 

“I thought you might have gone out exploring.” He said, taking a seat next to her without pause.

 

“I was out earlier, you know.” She said, needing some truth in her story.

 

      His reciprocal grin was nothing short of endearing. “Then I’m glad I caught you.” He looked around, seeing nobody else in the immediate area. “I thought you’d be all set up and in the sanctuary by now.”

 

     “To be honest”, Regina said, brown eyes downcast. “I haven’t spoken with the Priestess Freir yet, or the others.” Her words were met by a look of slight confusion, and the woman found herself speaking in half-truths that she desperately wished to err more on the side of verity. “I was hoping to get better acquainted with the city first, though that may have been a mistake.” She chuckled, feeling an unpleasant scratch in her throat.

 

     “You’re the curious type.” Henrik said decidedly, at which the Imperial couldn’t help but smirk. She had little experience with children, but the young noble seemed more to her like a wisecracking teenager than a child. His innocence was paired with a wisdom in his hazel eyes that drew her in.

 

“I like to know the particulars.” She admitted finally.

 

Suddenly, Henrik’s attention snapped up to her face and he asked: “Wait, if you haven’t spoken to the priestesses, does that mean you have nowhere to stay?”

 

There was an excitement in his voice that Regina was honestly surprised by - unable to lie quickly enough to dishearten him, she shook her head.

 

His smile grew. “You should come back to the palace with me!”

 

     Regina stilled, looking down at him with a vacant expression. Quickly she regained her composure, and shook her head once more. “Oh no,” She said. “I couldn’t do that. The Blue Palace is a place for nobles and courtiers - not common folk like me.”

 

She scolded herself immediately for the thought that she _was_ indeed of nobility enough to be considered a guest there.

 

     Henrik looked crushed when she spoke, his eyes darting to the floor and fixating upon the simple pattern. He said nothing for a moment, but the fugitive could see his mind working viciously to come up with some way to fight his point.

 

Sure enough, when he looked up once more, there was a determination in his eyes that she had never seen in a child before.

 

“Uriana, you have to come, please. You have nowhere to stay, and I wouldn’t be a very good person if I let you stay on the streets for the night.”

 

His tone was absolute, but he continued. “And my mom said that if you needed help, you could go to the Palace. That’s what she said.”

 

     The latter part of his speech surprised her more than anything, and she raised a perfect eyebrow. “Your mother said that?” She asked, the truth of his lineage seeming like a much more significant factor than in the instant before.

 

He nodded, brown hair flopping over his eyes before he brushed it away haphazardly in a habitual motion.

 

     “She did! I promise. She didn’t want me out at night, see. So she said that if you needed anything, you could go back there.” He paused, mouth set in a half-frown as he realized: “I think that’s what she wanted. She wanted you to come with me so I wouldn’t be walking alone.”

 

     The sentiment pulled at the very fabric of Regina’s fragile heart, buried under thick barriers erected there to keep harmful, useless feelings out. _A mother who cares that much…_ the woman nearly balked at the notion. Her mother loved her, of that she was certain, but she had learned the difference between unconditional love and what it meant to care for someone out of love.

 

     She decided long ago that unconditional love may not be such a healthy thing after all - though it still proved difficult for her to act on when she had to choose her own desires over those of her mother.

 

“Are you okay?” Henrik asked, forcing Regina out of introspective mode.

 

She nodded slowly, unable to mask the sadness creeping into her smile. “Yes.” She replied. “If you’re certain it won’t be a problem, then I’d be happy to walk you home.”

 

Clucking her tongue, she added: “Where are my manners? I’d be happy to walk you home regardless.”

 

Ignoring the dull ache in her body in favour of the boy’s smile, she picked up her bag and slung it unceremoniously over her shoulder as they made for the door.

 

…

 

“Ma!” Henrik yelled, barreling into the throne room.

 

      His mother wasn’t sitting in her daily place, which he should have expected from the late hour. Graeme however, was there, head snapping up at the sound of Henrik’s agitation.

 

“Henrik! What’s wrong?” He cried, standing.

 

“Graeme!” The boy exclaimed, out of breath from scaling the stairs. “Uriana… I think she needs a doctor! She walked me all the way here but… something’s wrong.”

 

     At this, the steward rose and followed the noble wordlessly to where a woman barely stood upright, clutching the wall for support. Her face was downcast, hidden by a curtain of thick, raven hair. Still, Graeme Gavel knew sickness when he saw it, and this woman was most certainly in the clutches of some kind of flu - or soon would be.

 

He hurried down the stairs without looking for Henrik, who had gone immediately to seek out his mother from her chambers.

 

“Please excuse me,” The man said upon approach. “Let me help you up the stairs. You need medical attention.”

 

     It was only when Regina looked up did he finally see her face, brown eyes looking into his with a hint of fear, but overshadowed by weakness and exhaustion. She was certainly beautiful, he noted, slipping an arm under hers and around her waist.

 

They had only reached the top of the stairs when Henrik came running back, footsteps echoing in the hall behind him as someone else approached.

 

“Let’s take her to the guest quarters.” He said to Graeme, who nodded and began leading Regina off to the left.

 

     While Henrik kept pace with them, the footsteps behind them remained a safe distance back, too far away to see without craning her neck - and Regina didn’t have the energy to expend. Finally, when her lungs felt like they were about to burst from the strain of walking, she was sat down on a clean bed, with crisp white linens.

 

     Though her nose had now begun to lose its sensitivity to smells, the fresh scent of the bed warmed her heart, and she realized how long it had been since she slept in a proper bed.

 

     Her bag abandoned at the foot of the bed, Henrik saw that her hood and cloak were placed delicately on the hooks behind the door, and that a doctor had been sent for. In the meantime, Graeme laid her down and stood back.

 

Only then did the mysterious footsteps finally approach, with them a woman who was undoubtedly Henrik’s mother.

 

     In her bleary state, Regina couldn’t tell what kind of woman she was by the expression she wore, but in her bright green eyes she saw the same innocence, and the same wisdom that Henrik had surprised her with no more than an hour before.

 

_Jarl Ema the Fair._ Regina noted. _Fair, indeed._

 

And those were her last thoughts before her eyes fell shut and she succumbed to a sleep that had been a week in the making.

 

“Can you heal her, ma?” Henrik asked, stepping toward the sleeping Imperial.

 

    Ema took a step closer, pulling her blue robe tighter around her slight frame. Without a second thought, two of her fingers came to rest on the woman’s hand, hot to the touch.

 

“No.” She said, studying the woman’s sleeping face. “It’ll just have to run its course.”

 

Henrik pouted. He had been so excited to spend time with their visitor, and he hadn’t planned on her being unconscious for it.

 

Ema laughed, ruffling her boy’s hair and taking a step back. “She’ll be alright. Once she’s better, will you introduce us?”

 

“Yes.” Was his reply, feeling a little sleepy himself.

 

     “Now then,” The blonde said, looking between the two males in the room. “Let’s leave our guest to rest, and the doctor will check in on her shortly. I think it’s time we all went to bed.”

 

     Both nodded, and Graeme was the first one out. Henrik then, who looked back at the sleeping woman once more before leaving. Ema too, couldn’t help but steal another glance at the Imperial, whose hair had fallen in strands across her face, leaving her perfect features obscured. Red lips were parted in heavy, sleep-laden breathing, and Ema silently wished Henrik’s new friend a speedy recovery as she pulled shut the wooden door.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The last chapter (Scroll IV: The Boy At the Temple) included the following characters:
> 
> Jarl Ema Nigellus the Fair - Emma Swan/The Saviour  
> General Nolan - David Nolan/Prince Charming  
> Legate Magda - Mary-Margaret Blanchard/Snow White  
> Graeme Gavel - Graham Humbert/The Huntsman  
> Regina Cordis - Regina Mills/Evil Queen  
> Ruby - Ruby Lucas/Little Red Riding Hood  
> Widow Grey-Mane - Granny  
> Henrik Nigellus - Henry Mills
> 
> There were quite a few people in that last chapter! Do let me know what you think! Thanks for the comments and kudos, you guys!


	6. Scroll VI: Dishonesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to (not limited to) the characters, concepts, places, names or origin stories of Once Upon a Time, or Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The names of various characters have been altered to fit the Tamriel/Skyrim naming convention however - if you have a hard time figuring out who's who, let me know.
> 
> I AM SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER GOT SO LONG. I truly am.   
> I was trying to fit so much information in, that I wonder if I should have divided it into two chapters. Still, a lot of ground got covered here, and we get a little more interaction between Ema and Regina - as small portions of truth begin to surface. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

     Warm light roused the Imperial from her fevered slumber, brown eyes opening groggily to the distant sounds of people talking and moving about. The brightness kept her from seeing quickly, though she felt someone in the room with her before her vision finally came into focus. When it did, she found herself in a chamber of grey stone, decorated by tapestries and carpets of rich colour, with elegant wooden tables placed throughout the room in strategic spaces. Next to one of them, stood a man in humble garb, an apothecary’s toolkit laid out.

 

     Her lips tightened as she slowly pushed herself into a more upright position, groaning at the pain firing in her temple from the sinus headache.

 

     The noise caused the man to turn and see his patient awake. He was a Bosmer, and of a ruddy complexion with chestnut brown hair slicked away from his lined face.

 

“Ah, she awakens.” He said, moving to the bedside.

 

     Before she could answer, he was already reaching out to touch her forehead, which felt hot under his touch. If she had been any less ill, Regina might have protested his informality, or his lack of propriety - even for a physician, but as it was she was glad for the cool hand on her face and someone to look after her. It felt… foreign.

 

“It shall pass.” He said cryptically, looking her over once more. “I’ll mix you something to clear your head. I had to wait until you were awake to properly assess the illness.”

 

Despite his unprofessional lack of introduction, the Imperial appreciated his explanation.

 

She found her voice a few moments later, sounding congested and weak - and only feeling just slightly better. “Thank you.”

 

     He nodded and returned to his table, working in silence. The herbs he pulled from a satchel at his waist filled the air with a pungent aroma, that even Regina could smell. She recognized it as charred Skeever hide, an ingredient she hated using - but worked effectively as a decongestant due to its spicy taste.

 

     “This is a watered-down potion of Cure Disease.” He explained, bringing over a phial of liquid a few minutes later. “You’ll feel better, but do take it easy these next few days. Your body succumbed to severe exhaustion - you’d do well to relax if possible.”

 

     Regina nodded her thanks, and her agreement while accepting the potion. Having mixed hundreds of these potions herself, she knew to down it all in one go if possible. The taste was bitter, as predicted, and about as thick and filmy as she remembered. Forcing it down without so much as a gag, she handed the phial back and said: “I’ll do my best.”

 

     “Good.” He said, nodding. “Now, I’ll leave you to it. Young Henrik has been inquiring about you these past few days however, and with your permission I will tell him that you’re awake.”

 

After the initial shock at hearing that she had been asleep for _days_ , her smile managed to lighten her mood, as did the thought of seeing the boy.

 

“Please.” She replied, pushing herself up against the headboard into a seated position.

 

Not fifteen minutes after the Bosmer bowed himself out, the sound of running heels against stone floors echoed down the hallway and into her room.

 

     She was already feeling better thanks to the potion, the fuzziness in her head dissipating and leaving only the fullbody lethargy that came with exhaustion and illness. Having straightened out her hair and blue robe - which she had likely  been changed into by one or more of the palace maids, she was as ready as could be to accept the brown-haired boy as he burst into the room with little decorum.

 

The enthusiasm in his smile more than made up for that.

 

“You’re awake!” He exclaimed, entering fully after receiving a nod and summons from the invalid.

 

     She still couldn’t speak clearly, and so kept her words to a minimum. Thankfully, Henrik had no shortage of words to entertain her with, and stories to tell. They sat like that for what was surely hours, as he had pulled over a stool from the corner of the room that Regina hadn’t noticed before.

 

“I even asked Ma if she’d heal you, but she said that she couldn’t.” He said after professing how worried he had been.

 

This information caused a crease to appear in Regina’s forehead. “Heal me?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “Can your mother use magic?”

 

Henrik nodded at the seemingly innocuous question.

 

“Oh, yes! She’s very good. She doesn’t really use it a lot though - mostly just healing magic. That’s actually all I’ve ever seen her use.”

 

     Brown eyes clouded in thought, Regina wondered at both how the Jarl of Solitude would know magic, and why she would need to. The image of the woman was still fresh in her mind, though it was but a hazy outline of a blonde noble as she succumbed to illness in the days before. Still, knowing that Henrik’s mother was a magic-user, and one who could use a magic that _she_ couldn’t, sparked a reaction in her that she didn’t know how to define.

 

     Before much longer however, she felt the exhaustion setting in once more. The potion wouldn’t have able to keep the illness at bay forever - but she wanted more time to talk with this shining boy. Henrik had brought in one of his books - a collection of fairytales that Regina recognized from the carriage that bore them to Solitude - and was poring over the illustrations within. She coughed dryly, and green eyes looked up at her with concern.

 

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked, brows furrowed.

 

“I am.” The Imperial confirmed, bringing up a hand to her chest as though to quiet the rising string of hacking. “But…” She coughed again, grimacing.  

 

     The young noble nodded. “Say no more.” He said, causing Regina to smile at the determined set of his jaw. Standing, he pushed the stool back to its home in the corner and bowed himself out - but not before offering to pay her another visit soon, and to bring a new book. One that they might read together.

 

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she slept away the remainder of the day.

 

…

 

“If we’re going to act, we have to do it now.”

 

     Legate Magda stood with a wide stance at the foot of the great table, Nolan on her other side with a similarly set expression. The woman looked across the wooden surface at Ema passionately, thin lips pulled into a thinner line.

 

“Legate,” Graeme tried to interject before he was silenced by Ema’s hand.

 

“She’s right, Graeme.”

 

     Inhaling, the blonde slumped back in her chair and pressed pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t like this…” She groaned, wishing with her entire being that there was another option. “You can send troops to Whiterun.”

 

The Legate and her general exchanged a knowing, satisfied look.

 

     “But-” Ema continued, now glancing nervously between Solitude’s military officials. “If you don’t find any Stormcloaks there you are not to press Balgruuf to ally himself with us. It’s all so delicate, I don’t want him thinking we’re there to start some war.”

 

     Madga shook her head. “With all due respect my Jarl, war is upon us. We’ve lost Eastmarch and the Pale - and the Rift fell last month. This is the right course of action, I know it.”

 

     Despite the firmness of her expression, there was a softness in her tone that Ema had noted more than once with surprise. Though the woman was young - perhaps only slightly older than herself, there was something comforting about the way her whole face softened when she was talking to Ema at times. At the moment, her hard stance had been replaced by one that was less dominating, and turned toward the Jarl with a lilt of persuasion instead of force.

 

“We’ll be as delicate as we can. But this _is_ a war. People are going to die… we just have to make sure it’s the least amount possible. That starts by protecting Whiterun.”

 

“And,” General Nolan interjected, again with a similar tone. “If we get lucky, we might also gain the allegiance of Jarl Bulgruuf in the process.”

 

“Right.” Ema breathed out finally, nodding once, and then another time as though to solidify the plan in her own mind.

 

“Do it.”

 

     The Jarl of Solitude stood. The officers bowed, and Ema allowed herself to be led out of the ready room. The growing, sinking feeling in her gut had turned itself into a stone that weighed her down into the duties of a Jarl. No matter how much she wanted to run away from these problems, she was in the thick of it, and once again she was powerless to change that.

 

…

 

     The following morning found Regina awake and feeling like a true Imperial again. She was able to stand, eat and bathe on her own, much to her own delight. Though she would never admit it, even being in the lap of luxury as she was in Cyrodiil, having people bathe and dress her never ceased to make her uneasy. While her mother practically expected to be waited on hand and foot, Regina discovered at a young age that there was a certain satisfaction to doing her own hair, or choosing her own jewelry before leaving her chamber.

 

     Settled in front of a small mirror, she realized that she had lost some weight due to her lack of appetite, and she felt proportionately weakened. Her lips were still red however, and her hair lustrous and dark, from the chin-length tresses on her head to her long eyelashes.

 

     Overall, she wasn’t displeased with her simple appearance, accentuated once more by the neutral robes she had worn into the city that had been freshly cleaned and pressed. Upon waking, the fugitive decided that she would pay her thanks to the Jarl and be on her way, so as to not impose - and endanger herself - any longer.

 

     Henrik had been eager to introduce his new friend to his mother since the week began, and Regina only then began to feel nervous as the boy excitedly babbled on about the marvels of Ema Nigellus as a mother. The walk to the throne room was too short for the woman to contemplate any more on the twisting of her insides, or on the weight in her chest that reminded her that her mother was also still out there.

 

     There were few people in the chamber that day, Regina noted. Turning a corner into full view of the room, there was a stone staircase was to her right  - the same one she had been helped up by a man who now stood in an opposing corner, poring over papers on a large desk. He didn’t see them enter, but the young boy at Regina’s side quickly made their presence known by pulling at her sleeve and toward the throne.

 

     Brilliant eyes that could shame the greenest grass of Sun’s Height were already focused on the pair of them, set into the face of a woman that took Regina’s breath away. _They don’t call her Ema the Fair for nothing._ She mused, keeping a decidedly neutral expression.  The blurry outline at the edge of her memory had done no justice to the Jarl of Solitude, whose expression was calm, but weary. Even still, there was joy at her lips when she saw Henrik, and a sort of breathless quality of her voice when she welcomed Regina.

 

“Hello.” She said.

 

     Regina fought off a smirk. It was not the voice of a Jarl, or of a ruler at all. She was not too young to rule by the Imperial’s standards, but she realized it was an act. Her mother would have torn Ema’s heart from her chest in an instant if she had been there, if it meant she could take her place.

 

The thought frightened her, and she forced herself to answer before once more becoming lost in thought, and in her mother’s world of power.

 

     “Greetings, Jarl Ema.” She said, bowing her head. “I understand that I am to thank you for both your hospitality and medical care. And I do offer my most sincere gratitude.”

 

Ema smiled, and Henrik walked over to her and stood by her side.

 

     “Well, any friend of my son’s is welcome here.” She said, looking fondly at the boy. He returned her look of love twofold, with the enthusiasm that only a young son could muster.

 

Regina felt a horrid tugging at the fabrics of her own heart, watching their exchange. Cora had never been so tender, she thought.

 

     “Once more, thank you for your kindness.” Regina said, dimly realizing that the crushing of her chest was beginning to feel like tears. Henrik beamed at her, and clasped his mother’s hand.

 

_I cannot stay here._

 

     She pressed her lips together firmly, tightening her jaw. Ema looked as though she were about to say something, but Regina pressed on. “I must get back to the Temple however, as I have been away from my prayers and lessons for too long.” The lies felt like poison at the back of her throat.

 

     She bowed, before either Jarl or son could protest. With that, she managed her way down the stairs and into the courtyard, whereupon she pulled up her hood and tears finally escaped their lashed barriers.

 

     She cried for the last two weeks of her life. The stress, the illness, the knowledge that she may never truly be safe again, that she may never have the opportunity to be just Regina. She wept for the lies she told to a young boy and his disconcerting mother. And she wept for the twenty eight years before. When she was Just Regina, and her mother had made her into a fierce weapon at the expense of her childhood.

 

     It wasn’t often she wept. But she wept freely, and passed the Temple of the Divines on her way out of the city. Making a beeline for Solitude’s stables, she found that her heart released some of its tension and anguish when her hands found the mane of a strong stallion tied to a post outside. It was the one place she could escape her mother in a rage; the upright brunette refused to set foot in one, and thus it became a place for Regina to run. A refuge.

 

With a skeptical stablehand looking at her from the haystacks nearby, she cried and let herself feel what emotional remnants clung to her heart.

 

…

 

“Ma!” Henrik ran into the throne room, looking panicked.

 

“What is it?” His mother replied.

 

“Uriana forgot her things!”

 

The blonde stared at him a moment before grinning. “Well, that’s no good.” She said, knowing where the conversation was headed.

 

     While she hadn’t gotten a good feel for the mysterious acolyte, she had certainly been impressed at Henry’s choice for a new friend. Though she was a little older than the Jarl expected, even for a woman of the cloth.  There had been something… lurking under the admittedly beautiful exterior, and not quite contrived or dishonest, but her ability to detect lies was firing on a low thrum during their short exchange.

 

“I should go take them to her at the Temple.” Ah, there it was.

 

Ema smiled, and looked over at Graeme. “Would you go with him?”

 

     Before the boy could object, the stubble-faced man nodded and they were off to return Uriana’s things. Little did they know of course, that there was no such person at the Temple of the Divines.

 

     Henrik’s confusion was great as the Priestess in charge said that she had never heard of an acolyte named Uriana, and was even unsure after an in-depth description by both boy and guardian. He clutched Regina’s bag to his chest, brow set in confusion and his mouth pulled into a discontented grimace. He knew when he was being lied to. At least, he thought he did.

 

     “Come, Henrik.” Graeme said once they had left, putting an arm around his shoulder. The man didn’t want to press the issue any further, though there was something niggling in the back of his mind about the whole situation. He kept up on the news about Skyrim thanks to various sources, and though he couldn’t remember the particulars, the man was certain something here related.

 

“Ma always knows when someone’s lying.” Henrik mumbled. “I thought I would too.”

 

He was mostly talking to himself, still gripping the leather satchel as though it contained something of Regina’s truth. He felt sick, and sad.

 

     “Graeme, why would she lie?” He asked the adult, who could offer no real response. As they approached the long stretch of  cobblestone leading back to the palace, a deafening roar shook the ground beneath them.

 

Henrik barely had time to look up before an enormous creature swooped so low over them that he was blown over by the air coming off its leathery wings.

 

Neither him nor Graeme could find the words, merely staring in shock as the beast hovered over the palace, screeching out another cry.

 

“DRAGON!!!!” Someone behind them screamed it out, and in a moment the quiet city turned into one of bodies and mayhem.

 

     Graeme pulled the boy out of the street, and against a building. There were hundreds of people pushing past them, both to get a look at the dragon, and to flee. Huddled into the wall, the pair of them edged closer to the palace wordlessly, Henrik’s hazel eyes wider than they ever had been in.

 

     The ground shook once more, this time as a building nearly exploded from a blast of frost and ice spouting from fanged jaws. The ice was instant, and the stone structure became as brittle as straw. A thick tail lashed through it as though it were nothing. Huge stones fell all over the road and crushed civilians still attempting to flee. The noise was unbearable, screaming and crying, all above the horrid, laughing bellow of the dragon as it continued to rain destruction upon Solitude.

 

     At the Blue Palace, Jarl Ema heard the devilish cry before she felt the vibrations underfoot. She knew the sound well enough as an enemy, and before anyone could stop her, she ran to a window to survey the damage. Her heart dropped in her chest at the sight. Already a building had fallen, and in the wake of the dust she could see colossal wings beating, and spikes of ice drilling upward at the sky from the ground, frozen and deadly.

 

“My Jarl -” A servant behind her spoke, while Ema turned sharply.

 

Without paying her so much as a look, she growled: “Everyone goes underground, NOW!”

 

“But-” The young woman said, cutting herself off as she was now alone in the room.

 

     Ten minutes later, the Blue Palace was emptying out of many residents, while Ema was pulling on the last of her blackened armour. The leather had stiffened since she had worn it last, and tight over the robes she didn’t have time to take off. The long dress hung down almost to her toes, which she only gave a moment’s thought as she crossed the room and pulled her sword from its case on the wall. The silver blade gleamed in her hands. Tightening her fingers around the hilt, she inhaled deeply and slashed off the bottom of her multiple skirts.

 

     Then, she was out of the palace and into the courtyard where the smell of discord and dust assaulted her senses. The only thought running through her mind at the moment however was finding her son, whose face she searched for amongst the throng of still running bodies.

 

In the meantime, Regina had found herself in the thick of the action, the dragon’s tail nearly missing her head, rolling out of the way in the nick of time.

 

     She gritted her teeth and felt the fire in her palm charge itself to a white-hot temperature, before flinging it at the shrieking creature now terrorizing a group of Imperial soldiers going at it with everything from bows and arrows to swords.

 

     The fight was one she hadn’t counted on, but with the first destroyed home, she felt her moral tethers pulling her into the battle. As she had learned to do long ago at the hands of her mother - and her victims - the sounds of muffled screaming from around her was tuned out and she was focused on the task at hand.

 

     The dragon took off, great blasts of wind staggering the ground forces as it shot another explosion of frost and ice with a roar. The soldiers to Regina’s right fell, many of them too wounded - or frozen - to continue.

 

     She hurled fire at the dragon as quickly as she could, until her magic had exhausted itself and she was forced to search for cover. The nearest fallen building offered her enough, and she ducked underneath without hesitation. The stone wall had caught on the building across the cobbled road, creating a space about ten feet long where the dragon was unable to see.

 

     Regina noticed that she wasn’t alone in the makeshift sanctuary - about five other people were there huddled against the wall. She did little more than glance in their direction, attention still focused on the Dragon, when a voice rung out behind her that she couldn’t ignore.

 

“Uriana!”

 

She gritted her teeth as her brave heart turned on itself at Henrik’s words.

 

    Turning, the Imperial looked back with a look of unbridled conflict, into the boy’s hazel eyes. Wide with fear, she also saw betrayal, and hurt there. In his arms, was her bag.

 

Graeme Gavel stood next to him, an arm protectively draped over his shoulder. The adult said nothing, for which Regina was grateful.

 

     Henrik was struggling to find words, though it wouldn’t have mattered much as a cloud of dust blew toward them, preceded by the thunderous noise of another building being torn apart.

 

Regina felt the familiar surge of her magic returning to full power, and before ducking out of the shelter, she turned and said: “I’m so sorry.”

 

Ignoring the tears in her eyes, the fugitive ran back out into the fray, fingertips blazing.

 

Not ten minutes later, Henrik and Graeme were found by Ema, who pulled them both from the stone shelter just as the dragon’s tail broke it down.

 

“Ma!” Henrik cried, hiding his face in the leather around her torso.

 

“It’s gonna be okay.” She said as gently as she could, looking up at the toothed-maw of the dragon above them.

 

     It’s bright eyes glittered in the afternoon light, training on the small huddled forms of the royal family. Screeching, it turned its scaled body toward them in an unmistakable motion to kill.

 

“It’s gonna be okay.” Ema repeated, shoving Henri back into Graeme’s arms and grasping the hilt of her sword.

  
  


…

  
  


     As the dragon fell, shards of steel-sharp ice flung at them in sheets, picking up off the ground in the wake of its movement. Its dying eyes flashed once more, and in a final attempt to end the lives of its conquerors, it shot one more blast of instantly freezing water in their direction.

 

Ema opened her mouth to scream, thoughts only of the young boy just a few yards away - and in full range of the icy breath.

 

At that moment, a dark-haired figure burst out in front of them, arms raised high.

 

     Ema recognized her immediately as the woman who called herself Uriana - the very same woman that had been deemed dishonest and a liar by her own son not a twenty minutes before, in the midst of the fray. 

 

     The air in front of her lit up with a protection spell, and Ema’s breath caught when she saw the look of sheer determination on the Imperial’s face. It was a face she had seen only a flash of, running into the line of fire - but it was a look she wouldn’t soon forget.

 

When the dragon had landed in its dying position, ice and snow finally clearing from the scene, Ema finally allowed herself a moment to survey her surroundings.

 

     Green eyes widened with increasing shock at the destruction before her; another home laid bare, nearly razed to the ground by a force felled with swords and fearsome magic. This time however, there was no Baelfire to hold her hand, pull her away and tell her that there was a better place waiting.

     She couldn’t run away from this, her responsibility - her home. It was a home that was falling apart at the seams, literally and figuratively, yet she had no desire to run away. It might have been the first time in her life she had felt that way. 

 

     This time, she knew she had to stay and protect what was hers. The dragons were back, and she had helped to bring one down. The sword in her hand was proof of that. 

 

     And when she looked at Regina, who happened to look back at her in the same moment, a spark ignited in her heart. _That_ spark had nothing to do with the dust that now began to settle over her city. No, it had everything to do with the fierce protectiveness, and the raw power gazing back at her, unbidden.

 

The mage’s hands fell to her sides, the Ward spell ending instantly.

 

“Thank you.” Ema barely managed to say, stepping forward. Henrik stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the fugitive and his lips pressed tightly together.

 

Regina said nothing, jaw clenched in response both to the adrenaline high and the intensity of the Jarl’s stare.

 

     “You...” Ema continued, ignoring the sounds  around them as panicked shouts and pained wails began to permeate the air. “You protected my city, and you protected my son.”

 

At the mention of Henrik, a softness dashed the brunette’s look of ferocity. She opened her mouth to speak, but halted when Ema added: “I know you lied.”

 

Regina’s full lips pulled back in a hopeless, silent plea, looking between Ema and the chestnut-haired boy a few yards back.

 

“I know you’re not who you said you were.” Ema continued, close enough now that she could see the water pooling in the woman’s brown eyes.

 

“I’m sorry - “ Regina breathed out, mostly to Henrik.

 

     “I know.” The Jarl added, capturing her attention once more.  “But your reasons are your own. While lying isn’t a great business to be in, your actions have earned you good enough graces in my books to have a home in Solitude.”

 

Regina’s lip quivered, and she bowed her head as relief washed over her.

 

     The Jarl added one more thing, reaching out and putting a hand on the mage’s shoulder. The contact alone was enough to make her head snap back up, but her words were equally welcome: “I have to get the city cleaned up. But you, Henrik and Graeme go back to the Palace for some rest, and something to eat. I want to talk to you, and thank you properly for saving our lives.”

 

Regina couldn’t argue. She didn’t want to.

 

She was exhausted still, recovering from illness, and now her magic felt almost completely drained. Somewhere warm to sit  and eat was all she wanted.

  
That, and a chance to make good with the boy who watched her with suspicion, but just enough awe for her to think that it might all work out in the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The last chapter (Scroll V: A New City) included the following characters:
> 
> Jarl Ema Nigellus the Fair - Emma Swan/The Saviour  
> Graeme Gavel - Graham Humbert/The Huntsman  
> Regina Cordis - Regina Mills/Evil Queen  
> Henrik Nigellus - Henry Mills


	7. Chapter VII: A Curious Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to (not limited to) the characters, concepts, places, names or origin stories of Once Upon a Time, or Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The names of various characters have been altered to fit the Tamriel/Skyrim naming convention however - if you have a hard time figuring out who's who, let me know.
> 
> To those of you who are still reading, after this lengthy hiatus - THANK YOU. I didn't mean to be so long with this chapter, but it was very difficult to write, and I feel like I'm just finding my stride again with writing. I was very happy to write some Regina and Emma into this however, and I hope it doesn't disappoint.  
> As always, thank you for your likes and comments! 
> 
> Enjoy. <3

 

* * *

 

 

_The Blue Palace_

 

     In the days following the attack, the city moved at a crawl trying to rebuild the essentials; parts of the Temple had been damaged, and the market destroyed, not to mention the many houses and inns that were damaged in the initial landing of the felled dragon.

 

    Regina had spent that time in a cautious bliss, finding that life in the Blue Palace suited her much better than the life of a fugitive acolyte. After revealing her name to the Jarl and her son, Regina was happy to be referred to as such, although she would answer no more personal questions about where she had come from - and outright denied knowing anything about the goings on outside of Skyrim.

 

    Her story of being an acolyte was explained as “a woman’s way of avoiding attention on the road”, which earned her a disarming stare from Ema - although she said no more about it. Henrik had also spent those days warming up to her again, tentatively, a hint of wariness in his expression whenever she revealed new facts to his young mind. Still, the Imperial did her best to get back into the boy’s good graces, as he had certainly never fallen out of hers.

 

The Jarl herself was another story entirely.

 

    The woman was almost as hard to read as Regina herself, and twice as stubborn. Ema Nigellus was no pushover, and despite the polite and welcoming exterior, the mage found her initial reaction to be spot on: she was no ruler. A discussion that had ended in Regina’s feeling extremely uncomfortable on Ema’s behalf had also revealed that she was only Jarl because of her failed marriage to Baelfire Nigellus, the rightful heir to the throne. He had fled the city shortly before the birth of her son, and had left her to deal with both the backlash, and the responsibility of running Solitude after Aurum Nigellus had finally deemed her fit to accept his dual responsibilities.

 

    One afternoon, the brunette sat in her chambers - the same where she had stayed during her invalid state - reading a tome from her library in Cyrodiil. Her thoughts had been turning increasingly to the battle with the dragon, just as she leafed through pages of a book featuring new spells that could amplify her powers.

 

    Flexing her fingers involuntarily, she felt the natural warmth that burst through her every vein before flickering down to her fingertips. A small fireball pooled in her palm, and she knew its every move, every lick of the flame without having to glance away from her book. Before she realized what she was doing, the flame had grown to the size of an apple in her hand, and she quickly snuffed it out before someone in the castle smelled smoke.

 

    More and more, she thought of the dragon’s body falling to the ground, the deadly ice that had nearly frozen Graeme,  and shredded Henrik to pieces. Her magic had only barely been enough. Ema had thanked her profusely for her actions, but what the mage didn’t let on was that her magic had been running dangerously low; it didn’t sit well with her, the feeling of near helplessness to watch someone she had come to care for in the face of almost certain death. What sat with her worse - a thought that dimly alarmed her - was that Ema would have seen it all happen. Regina couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the opinion of the blonde became important to her, or why she even thought of the woman - when her original bond had been with the boy.

 

    Exhaling, Regina closed the book and stood. She had been holed up in her chambers for too long, and sought an audience with Ema herself. It was around this time that her military officials would brief her on the goings on of the growing rebellion in Skyrim, and she usually required some conversational decompression afterwards. The mage was pleased to admit that their little talks also made her feel more at ease. It was difficult for her to trust, especially when she was on the run - and so used to being aloof and guarded. But there was something about Ema , perhaps the fact that she seemed to have an infallible internal lie-detector, that made Regina want to open up. Telling the truth wasn’t always an option, but the Imperial made do with what she knew of other topics.

 

    Moving through the castle, she checked her reflection in windows as she passed, flicking her chin-length hair this way and that, trying to make herself look more like _herself._ The robes she brought with her still hung in her dresser, too warm for use in the city. The humble mage’s garb she wore now was a shade away from being considered an eyesore by her mother’s standards, and her usual confidence in her appearance was slightly lessened by the lack of her more regal attire.

 

    She happened upon Ema and her subordinates in their stateroom, and true to form, the Jarl looked less than pleased at the news brought to her. From what the mage could hear outside, Magda had finished telling her that Whiterun was indeed overrun, and a battle had taken place between their Imperial forces and the Stormcloaks.

 

“The battle was won.” General Nolan said as Regina approached.

 

“That’s all we can ask for, for now.” Magda added, looking at their ruler. Ema’s jaw was set in a strained expression, clearly biting her tongue.

 

“We have Whiterun, and Jarl Balgruuf’s allegiance. That’s more than good enough for now.” The man concurred, and Ema nodded curtly.

 

“And what now?” The blonde asked.

 

“Now we focus on the rescue effort here.” The General replied, sounding relieved.

 

    The short, brunette Legate beside him mirrored his expression, and Regina found herself quelling a sudden wave of distaste at their synchronicity. Henrik had told her that the two of them were two peas in a pod - inseparable, well-rounded fighters at the head of the Imperial Army in Skyrim. Though they hadn’t exchanged more than four words together at any time since the dragon’s attack, Regina found their dependence on one another nauseating.

 

Ema adored them however, despite the occasional disagreement regarding the welfare of Solitude.

 

The mage waited patiently for their meeting to adjourn, trying not to impose as she stood in the anteroom.

 

Minutes later she was joined by the Jarl, a wearing an expression that read of exhaustion.

 

    The Imperial could tell that her duties weighed heavily on the woman’s shoulders, having been all over the city herself in an attempt to help rebuild. Regina admired her for being a woman of action, where she had always perceived herself as a woman of words. Ema certainly showed the physical signs of a person distressed, and she made little effort to hide it around Regina, which she also found herself appreciating.

 

“That bad?” Regina asked once they were out of earshot of the stateroom.

 

Ema rolled her eyes and puffed out a sigh. “It is what it is.”

 

Silently, the brunette nodded her agreement. “I’m sorry for that.” She admitted, offering a half-smile.

 

The Jarl replied in kind, a tired smile breaking over her features. She looked as though she were about to say something, words caught between her tongue and teeth, but she bit them back and shrugged instead.

 

    Regina knew better than to push - being curious had been a failing in her as a child, but Ema had begun her descent down the slippery slope of desiring knowledge. If she had been less concerned about her situation, the mage might have noted that the desire for knowledge in regards to the Jarl was directly tied to a similar desire to form some kind of relationship. A bond. Something she had far too few of in these times, and the way they walked down the stone hallways together in a comfortable silence made her feel that bond begin to thread its way into her heart.

 

When they reached Ema’s quarters, they found tea already waiting.

 

At this, both women smiled and exchanged a glance of familiarity. “There are some things you never get used to.” Ema said, chuckling as she sat down.

 

One perfect eyebrow raising, Regina smirked. “Never?”

 

“It’s still strange sometimes.” Ema admitted, pouring Regina’s tea first, sliding the cup and saucer over to her. “I wasn’t raised around this kind of thing.”

 

    The brunette nodded, remembering past conversations that had revealed Ema’s shady lineage; a younger, wilder version of Ema had grown up in those dark and often putrid streets, a thief and orphan degenerate. The reputation for poverty in Riften was surpassed only by the truth of the situation.

 

    Regina tried to imagine Ema as a child, and found it easier to imagine her as a muddy street urchin than a noble like her. Smirking silently at the thought, she still admired the blonde from over her the rim of her cup. Long blonde hair curled at the ends, loose pieces of her fringe artfully escaping the braids that pulled some of her hair back behind her head. The delicate circlet on her head didn’t look out of place either, and the gold of it matched the fair hair it sat upon. It wasn’t that she looked anything less than ‘Jarl Ema the Fair’, Regina realized, but the way the woman held her jaw in a set way, the tension in her shoulders, like she was constantly on the verge of saying something sarcastic.

 

“What?” Asked the woman in question, causing Regina’s lips to part in a grin at the familiarity in tone.

 

“Nothing, dear.” She said, half in jest. Ema would know she had more to say, and would wait until she did, so Regina continued after a pointed pause.

 

“I was merely thinking that your resolve to solve these issues with a minimum of bloodshed is… admirable.”

 

Ema smirked, but raised her eyebrow. She was used to her mysterious houseguest speaking in half-truths, but it never stopped her from wondering exactly what she meant to say with any of it.

 

“Isn’t that what Jarls are supposed to do?” She asked quietly.

 

    In an instant, her expression went from a challenging, assured smirk to something akin to a timid animal. Her eyes held as much innocence in them as she had seen in Henrik, and she felt a shift in the pieces of Ema Nigellus that she had come to understand thus far.

 

Putting her tea delicately back on the table, the mage leaned forward and said: “It’s what good Jarls do. Jarls who care about their people.”

 

This washed over Ema like a visible swell, a relieved smile betraying her need for reassurance - something the Imperial could easily relate to, realizing neither of them got quite enough.

 

Ema chanced a chuckle, eyes flickering to Regina’s mouth before looking down rather intently at her tea.  The mage realized only then that she had been smiling.

 

    “I don’t know... “ Ema sighed, finally meeting her companion’s gaze once more. “There are rumors going around, there have been for years. And normally one wouldn't have to deal with much of that as a Jarl, but with the Stormcloak rebellion gaining so much steam, I have to wonder if it all _would_ be better if we tried to mount an all-out assault.”

 

    “Trust me, Ema” Regina let the name slip out without a title, immediately glancing up to gauge the woman’s reaction. When the blonde still looked on with an expression that prompted nothing but for her to continue, she did. “Your instincts on this issue are good. Nothing can be gained from mounting such an assault when the only outcome can be a massive loss on your part. You said yourself there isn’t enough information about the Stormcloak strongholds, why take that risk?”

 

“You’re probably right.” The Jarl conceded, looking thoughtfully, aimlessly at the room around them. “But, you seem pretty knowledgeable about this kind of thing.”

 

At this, the brunette froze and hardened her gaze. It thawed only when she let go of the fear that Ema was out to reveal her secret - a secret, that as far as she was aware, the Jarl still didn’t know.

 

The other woman caught the shift in her expression however, and immediately followed by saying: “At least, you speak about it very comfortably.”

 

    Regina’s shoulders relaxed and she looked at Ema with pursed lips. "Like you said - there are some things you never get used to, but the opposite is true as well. It's difficult to remain impartial to the situation at hand, when one's life has been steeped in diplomacy." She sighed,  feeling a little like she had  revealed too much in that moment.

 

"Oh," Ema's eyebrows quirked upwards, as did her lips. "Let me guess - you're of noble blood, and have a large bounty on your head for a crime you didn’t mean to commit? Running was your only option.”

 

The truth in her statement, though said in jest was enough to set Regina’s jaw. Before she could snap out a quick reply, she forced her hardening expression to one of cold neutrality.

 

“Nothing like that.” She assured, hoping her self-proclaimed diplomatic abilities were enough to conceal the wild panic rising in her chest.

 

    What Regina assumed was neutrality on her face, Ema read as steeliness, and immediately looked dejectedly downwards. The Jarl had seen that impenetrable look on the Imperial’s face more than once in the days prior, in response to various prying questions either by Graeme or other members of the court. She appreciated that Regina was a private person, but realized too late that her humor wasn’t wanted.

 

The brunette, in comparison, was mortified the moment she saw Ema look away. It was akin to wounding an animal; the Jarl appearing too young all of a sudden, as she did whenever someone gave her a reproachful look.

 

    She reached forward involuntarily, clutching at nothing in particular - Ema’s hand was too far away, and Regina hadn’t been sure what she was going for, her fingers coming to rest on the expensive wood grain between them. “I’m sorry-” She began, just as Ema dared to meet her eyes again.

 

    The sheer openness in Ema’s expression frightened the Imperial at times, as though she was too trusting without being aware of it. Stubbornness and sarcasm fell to the wayside as she looked into the face of someone so sincere it made her heart hurt. Henrik most definitely inherited that same look from his mother.

 

The blonde opened her mouth slightly, causing her companion’s gaze to drift down and settle on her lips.

 

“Regina-” She breathed, and it softened the steel of her spine. “I don’t want to do this. This war.”

 

It was quiet. Intimate.

 

“I don’t feel like I can do this.” A nervous sound, pulling Regina’s eyes back up to meet Ema’s.

 

    To the Jarl, it was a risky confession for many reasons, the most obvious of which was that she _was_ the Jarl, without any real way around it. The words had been allowed to leave her lips purely as a peace offering, for Ema, who had only known this refugee for a short time, had earned her trust. What was more, was that the young mother wanted Regina to trust her in return.

The other woman said nothing for what felt like minutes, fingers curling uselessly into a loose fist on the table.

 

“You can.” She said, and her voice was still firm, but void of the formal tone her previous posture implied.

 

Ema’s lower lip worried, and she clenched her jaw to keep it from moving further.

 

    Inhaling deeply, Regina continued. “You can do this. Handling the responsibilities of a Jarl is difficult, but your instincts… they’re good. And your heart,” Her brown eyes flicked between the blonde’s robe and her vulnerable expression. “Is in the right place.”

 

The Jarl swallowed. “A good heart does not a good ruler make.”

 

    Finally, a small smile surfaced on Regina’s lips, and she pulled her hand back from its spot on the table and back into her lap. “No,” She said with a warm lilt. “It does not. But it means you will protect and serve those who are bound to do the same for you. That will help you. And I-”

 

She paused, and Ema sat up straighter.

 

“I want to help. If I can.” Looking down, she couldn’t see the hesitant, radiant smile taking up residence on the Jarl’s face.

 

“It’s the least I can do, for the hospitality you’ve shown me, after everything I’ve do-”

 

“Stop there.” Ema said, and the Imperial looked up, confused, and ready to harden once more at a moment’s notice.

 

Ema’s smile fairly took her breath away, and Regina was instantly aware of her own hand fisting the fabric over her knee, thankfully out of sight.

 

“You may have lied, but you have your reasons. I understand that.” _She really does._ Regina thought. “But you saved Henrik, and protected my city… and now you’re offering more assistance?”

 

    She chuckled, and Regina thought it might have been the best sound the Blue Palace had to offer. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry if I said something that hit too close to home. I would be so thankful to have your continued opinion as this civil war progresses. I’ve got enough to deal with now, thanks to that dragon…”

 

“Finish your tea, dear.” Regina said, returning the warm smile. “Take what precious little time you can to relax.”

 

Threading a finger through the teacup, Ema nodded. “With advice like that I might have to sack Graeme.”

 

The two laughed, the tension in the room finally dissipating.

 

...

 

    A hacking cough echoed throughout the chamber, Graeme bowing his head to hide the obvious disgust in his expression. Before him, a massive bed lay covered in heavy blankets, cocooning the body of a dying king.

 

    Aurum Nigellus was old, sick, and very near death. Everyone in Tamriel knew it - and what was worse, was that it had come out of nowhere. The man had been spry, wily, and even downright impish at times and it seemed to most as though his reign would never end. It wasn’t until the Stormcloaks began their rise to power did he seem to crumble under the weight of his crown.

 

Graeme often came to visit his chambers, updating the old king on news of Skyrim and the neighbouring provinces, and today was no different despite the downward turn of Aurum’s health.

 

The invalid noble was propped into a seated position, a strand of his auburn hair falling forward and obscuring his expression.

 

“Are you certain?” He asked of the steward, a shaky breath interrupting his speech.

 

“Almost positive, Sire. The news came in the day before the dragon’s attack. I thought nothing of it at the time - but the name… and she is an Imperial. The similarities cannot be a coincidence.”

 

“Interesting…” The king mused with a pathetic chuckle. “What would you recommend be done?”

 

    At this, the young man looked up and met Aurum’s eyes. There was a hint of a challenge in the raspy voice, something that made him consider his answer a moment further. “Nothing, milord.” He said plainly, though the uncertainty couldn’t be fully hidden. “It would be unwise to draw the attention of Cyrodiil here at this time. The Jarl has enough on her plate, without the forcible surrender of a fugitive in her home.”

 

“Are you suggesting that's too much for the Jarl to handle? Do not let your feelings impede your duties as steward.”

 

“Of course, sire. I merely think it would be prudent not to trouble her with this until the civil war business settles.”

 

“And if it doesn’t?” Another bout of coughing silenced him.

 

    Graeme didn’t want to think about it, for as much as he adored and cared for Ema, he could see the way her shoulders began to slump in meetings, and the way her green eyes skirted the edges of their tactical maps whenever she sat in on briefings. It wasn’t her calling. She wasn’t built for it, and it pained him to know that Aurum - and much of Solitude still felt the same way. _The military might have been a better option_ , he thought dully. A _t the very least, she wouldn't have to deal with all of this political nonsense._ Protecting Solitude against the dragon with her own blade won back much favour among the people, but the steward could only sigh, and nod at Aurum’s implication.

 

“I will… speak to her about it.”

 

Once again, that impish grin took over the features on the older man, a gold tooth glittering in the dim light cast out by the fireplace.

 

“Be thorough, Gavel. That’s all I ask.”

 

The young man bowed himself out, but was interrupted by a final thought by the High King.

  
“And give my regards to Ema the Fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The last chapter (Scroll VI: Dishonesty) included the following characters:
> 
> Regina Cordis - Regina Mills/Evil Queen  
> Henrik Nigellus - Henry Mills  
> General Nolan - David Nolan/Prince Charming  
> Legate Magda - Mary-Margaret Blanchard/Snow White  
> Jarl Ema Nigellus the Fair - Emma Swan/The Saviour  
> Graeme Gavel - Graham Humbert/The Huntsman


End file.
